Take a Seat
by emebalia
Summary: Tied to a chair. That was not the way Special Agent Victor Henriksen had pictured his days off. No slash, rated for language. First in the Victor 'verse *COMPLETE*
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: Not mine, I'm just playing with Kripke's toys

**Timeline**: Second Season somewhere between FPB and AHBL

* * *

><p><strong>Take a Seat<strong>

Tied to a chair. That was not the way Special Agent Victor Henriksen had pictured his days off. Actually, he hadn't pictured any free days in the near future.

"Take the rest of the week off," his boss had said. "Clear your head, get a fresh start on Monday." With these words he had virtually thrown Victor out of the office. That had been on Tuesday. Nobody expected him back before Monday, hell nobody even knew where he was. And today was Thursday and he was tied to a chair. Not good. So not good.

Viktor bit the inside of his cheeks, his only chance to punish himself for his own stupidity. Instead of staring at the walls in his apartment with his thoughts rotating around the Winchester case, he had decided to follow an anonymous tip. At least he would have the feeling of actually doing something. But the lead was not as cold as he had feared.

"Is that too tight?" Sam's face appeared in his right visual field. The bastard even managed to look at him sympathetically. Victor examined the bindings. They were tight, the boy knew what he was doing, but they didn't cut into his wrists. Not yet. Victor did not answer, his look locked on the older brother. Dean just grinned. Now he put away the weapon with which he had hold Victor at bay, while Sam had tied him expertly to the damn chair.

Pictures of St. Louis appeared before his eyes. Victor had not seen the crime scenes himself, but he had seen the pictures. Not pretty.

"That's your thing, isn't it Dean?" Victor tried to sound more confident than he felt. Sam was still uncomfortably close behind him, but Victor was focused on Dean. Dean was the monster here, he was the real threat. Sam was only the poor sucker who did what his brother told him. Over his head the brothers exchanged a look that Victor couldn't quite place.

Dean smiled at him in a supposed to be reassuring way. Victor straighten up in his bindings, sure that now the knives would come in action

"Nobody gets hurt," Dean declared, his hands raised, as if he wanted to say: No weapons, everything is fine, we're all friends here.

"Look," said Sam from the side. He moved over to Dean and the muscles in Victor's neck relaxed a bit. "We have a job to do and you kinda got in the way, unfortunately." He looked sincere as if he felt really sorry for this whole situation. Victor could imagine what kind of a job this was. Did Dean need his next fix? Serial killer were a lot like junkies, Victor knew. They need the kick in short terms. Victor bit his tongue and didn't say a word. Don't agitate the psycho. It was almost a miracle that Dean hadn't already worked him over with a knife.

"The most important question," Dean dragged the second chair over to sit face to face to Victor, "is if someone will come looking for you."

"One hour you're both in handcuffs on the way to the next high-security prison." Victor forced a smile on his lips. But Dean only cocked his head and looked at him for a long second.

"I don't think so."

He stood up abruptly and Sam followed him into the corner. They whispered, while Dean had an eye on Victor. He didn't understand a word, but this couldn't be good. It took just a minute, then they agreed on something.

Dean disappeared through the front door and Sam was looking for something in one of the duffle bags. Clothes were thrown carelessly on one bed. Whatever Sam was looking for, it was buried at the bottom of the bag. Apparently not often used. A knife came in sight. The blade nearly as long as Victor's forearm was covered in worn leather. Victor licked his dry lips, but Sam only frowned as if he had not expected the knife in his duffle.

The knife in his hand he went past Victor to another bag on the wall. He briefly caught a glimpse of metal, as Sam stuffed the weapon in. Mentally he was taking notes. Weapons bag on the wall beside the door. The other bags probably clothing and personal stuff. He had no idea if any of the weapons in the bag were loaded, but the knife would be a good start. If he could get his hands on it. And of course if he ignored the fact that his kidnappers had a loaded gun, which was now within Sam's reach on the table. Next to Victor's own gun, his badge, his cell phone and his keys. The key to his motel room was no longer there. Maybe Dean had taken it.

While Victor was distracted, Sam had found what he was looking for. A cell phone. Not exactly the latest model, but it looked not really used either. It would probably be dumped after just one call, so it couldn't be tracked down. The only question was who Sam was going to call.

"Stay away from my stuff," Victor shouted as Sam reached for his cell phone on the table. Sam didn't look up while he flipped through the menu. A smile indicated that he had found what he was searching for. Sam typed a number in his own cell phone, but then hesitated.

"Sorry, but I better gag you." Without further ado he stuffed a pair of socks into Victor's mouth. Victor protested halfheartedly against the gag, but besides throwing a dark glare at Sam, he couldn't really do anything about it.

"Just a minute." Sam apologized and pointed his index finger in Victor's direction as if they were in an fucking office.

"Yes, hello. Please connect me with Agent Henriksen."

Victor almost choked on the gag. For a moment he couldn't breathe. Black spots floating in his vision and he heard Sam's voice from far away. The boy had balls. Victor must gave him that.

"Thank you very much, I'll try again on Monday." With a triumphant smile he ended the call. At that moment the door opened.

Sam spun around, the phone hit the ground and he had both hands on the gun before the door was half open. Sam was quick. Quicker than Victor would ever be, he had to admit. One more thing to keep in mind.

"Dude", was all Dean said.

"He's on vacation and they expect him back on Monday," Sam informed his brother, while he put the gun back on the table. Apparently it was not worth mentioning that he had just threatened his big brother with a weapon. Interesting.

Dean put down a suitcase which Victor recognized as his own. Not good.

"He paid for one night." Dean threw two keys on the table. "I got his stuff and we'll get rid of the car later." He grinned but it didn't reach his eyes.

Sam nodded. Then he turned to Victor and eased the socks out of his mouth.

"Looks like you are on your own." His expression was hard to read. Under other circumstances it could have been compassion.

Victor swallowed a few times to get some moisture back into his mouth. It didn't really help.

"Looks that way," he admitted finally. His tongue still felt like a cotton cloth.

"Here, that helps." Sam brought a bottle of water to his lips. Victor hesitated but then he took a few gulps. The cool water ran down his throat, washed away the taste of the socks. He wondered if the water was drugged.

But how much worse could his situation become? He was tied to a fucking chair, held captive by two psychopaths of which at least one was known to like to torture. And they knew that nobody would come looking for him in the next few days. At this moment Victor gave a damn if the water was poisoned.

tbc


	2. Chapter 2

"What now?" Victor asked. He was not sure whether he really wanted to hear the answer, but he had to ask.

"It's getting late," Dean said, but his words were directed to Sam. Almost as if Victor wasn't even there.

"We start with the interviews in the morning." Sam nodded and reached out his hand. "I fetch us something to eat."

"Bring pie." They grinned, as if they shared an insider joke. Sam caught the keys midair and was out the door seconds later. An engine started, a deep growling like a predatory animal. Of course, the old Impala Victor had seen in the parking lot. He would bet it belonged to Dean. Then the noise vanished in the distance.

Victor was alone with Dean. Somehow he had felt better when Sam was still in the same room with them. In front of his little brother Dean behaved himself. Hadn't shown his dark side jet. Victor was not even sure what Sam knew about Dean's little hobby. Or wanted to know. Sam was not stupid, he had a full ride to Stanford after all. But blind loyalty sometimes made … you now … blind. Maybe Sam knew what kind of a sadist his brother was and had simply decided to ignore it.

Victor watched Dean, who used the time to rumble through Victor's suitcase.

"Don't worry, I'm not out for stealing" He grinned. "I just want to make sure that you are not hiding a weapon somewhere. What do we have here?"

Victor watched helplessly as Dean took two files from the depths of his suitcase. One was more than twice as thick as the other.

"That's what I call interesting bedtime reading." He opened the thicker file.

Victor bit his lip. Everything he knew about Dean Winchester was in there. Official documents, reports from police stations all over the country, witness accounts and of course his own notes. He didn't want Dean to get this information. He really didn't. But he could do nothing to stop it. On the other hand, when Dean was busy reading, he couldn't torture his prisoner, right?

"You've been busy." Dean flipped through the file, reading a paragraph here and there. That stupid grin plastered on his face. "However, this is not quite how I would tell the story."

Victor chewed on his lower lip, then he took the bait. "How would you tell it?"

If he played this right, he had the opportunity to creep into Deans mind. Get a better understanding of his madness. What made him tick?

"Here, for example." He held up a photograph of something which had given Victor more than one sleepless night. But Dean had not to know that.

"What is it?" From the distance he could not see the details but Victor had it clearly in his mind. To clearly actually. The picture showed Dean Winchester on an autopsy table. The body was identified as Dean Winchester. Killed by two silver bullets that had penetrated the heart. Nevertheless, same Dean Winchester sat there at the table, alive and breathing, and studied a photo of his own autopsied corpse.

"Have you ever found out who this is?" Dean asked the one million dollar question.

"Some poor sucker who had the misfortune to run into you." If Victor had been able to, he would have shrugged his shoulders. He watched the other man closely, waiting for any bit of information he could get out of Deans reaction.

"Sure." Dean snorted. "I do happen to have a twin with whom I can fake my own death. And I bet there's no missing person report. No trace of him, as if he had never existed."

That was one of the points that Victor disturbed at the Winchester case. Too many things just do not add up. Victor wasn't blind or stupid. This case had more questions than answers, but he would prefer to discuss this in an interrogation room in an FBI-building. Where it wouldn't be him who was tied up to the furniture. That one was for sure.

Questions or not, Dean was a psychopath. That was a fact. It showed just how good the brothers were. Sam had his share of it, for that Victor was also sure. It had been Sam who had taken out two SWAT guys in the bank. The biggest mistake Victor could make with the brothers was to underestimate them. This mistake he had made in Milwaukee, it wouldn't happen again.

"But I'm the bad guy, sure." Dean closed the file and pushed it away. "Why me and not Mister John Doe?"

"You are alive and he is dead," Victor said. "That makes me think."

Dean let out a sigh but said nothing. His fingers drummed on the cover of Sam's file, but he didn't open it.

"Why are you here in this town?" Victor asked bluntly. He had tried to get behind the movement pattern of the brothers but there was none. The brothers appeared at random small towns, stayed a few days and then disappeared again. Usually accompanied by a few murders.

"People disappear," Dean said as if that explained everything. "We don't know the details jet. We just arrived a few hours ago. So no, we are not responsible for their disappearance."

He got up only to throw himself on the bed next to the door. Hands folded behind his head he stared at the ceiling.

"Sam could really hurry with the food," he grumbled. "I'm starving."

Although Victor hadn't eaten since breakfast, that was his smallest concern. When he watched Dean as he lay on his bed, ankles crossed, he looked more like a little boy. Mother's favorite. Victor swallowed at this sight, sometimes he just forgot how young both Winchesters really were. It was hard to see the sadistic killer in this boy.

Victor blinked. He would not let himself be fooled that easily. Most serial killers were able to adjust really well. Blend in. They showed their true face only to their victims. And in this case, maybe to Sam.

Which role Sam played in this constellation Victor wasn't sure, victim or abettor. But perhaps that line just blurred.

Silently they waited until the engine noise announced Sam's return.

"I didn't know what you like," Sam said while he threw a brown paper bag towards his brother who caught it easily without even looking in the right direction. "But I thought you were more like Dean."

Victor bit back a comment and watched silently as Sam put two more bags on the table. It smelled good and he had to admit he was hungry.

"What's that?" Sam pushed the files to the side to make room for dinner.

"Our files," Dean said with his mouth full. Sauce ran down his chin. In the past few seconds he had managed to inhale half of his cheeseburger. "Fare from the truth but nice to read."

Sam nodded and put them aside. Out of one bag he took another burger, fries and a coke and placed it out on the end of the second bed. Within Victor's reach if he had a free hand, of course.

"I will untie your left hand so you can eat." Sam informed him. He didn't warn Victor not to try anything stupid. With only one free hand he could do nothing against two armed men and he knew it. They all knew it. Victor would wait for a better chance.

Sam made sure that everything was in reach for Victor before he sat down at the table and dug into his salad. Given the choice between a cheeseburger and a salad Victor would choose the burger at any time, so maybe he had something in common with Dean. Victor shook his head and concentrated on getting fries into his mouth.

Eating one-handed was not easy and some fries landed on the floor, but Victor managed. And apparently he had more in common with Dean than he would ever admit because eating the burger was … juicy.

"By the way," Dean said between two bites in Victor's direction. "Keep in mind that you will be sleeping in that bed. So, no mass."

Sam looked up from his salad a frown on his face and pointed his fork at Dean. "Same for you. When it's my turn to sleep I would prefer clean sheets without any ketchup. "

"Too late." Dean grinned with his mouth full of pie.


	3. Chapter 3

After dinner Dean head out to 'get rid of the car' and after that they settled down for the night. Which mend for Victor to get untied and after a bathroom break – leave the door open, thank you very much – Sam cuffed him with his own handcuffs to the frame of the bed. They were careful, never gave him an opening. Sam handled him while Dean controlled the situation with a gun trained at Victor. And that bastard would not hesitate to shot him, was maybe waiting for an excuse to do so. Why they kept him alive Victor couldn't quite figure, but he had no illusion how this would end.

_One chance_, Victor thought with a dark glare towards Dean, _just give me one chance, make one mistake._

Victor lay on the bed. It felt good to stretch his legs after sitting on that chair for hours. Only one hand was cuffed to the frame what allowed him to actually move from his back to his left side. Not that that would help him in any way but it was much more comfortable than the tight bindings.

"I know you will not believe me, but you will survive this little episode." Dean said. He looked him straight in the eye and Victor couldn't find a lie in this look. It was his job to find the lie in sincere looks and he couldn't see the lie he knew was there. On the other hand, Dean was a professional liar.

Dean sighted as if he knew what Victor was thinking and got under the covers of his own bed.

"Try to sleep." With that he turned off the light. The room fell dark except for the dim light from Sam's laptop. After a few minutes Dean's breathing evened out and Victor knew he was asleep. The only sound came from Sam who was constantly typing on his laptop. Chewing on his lip he was absorbed in whatever he was doing. Victor watched him for half an hour and the boy didn't even look up once.

Taking his chance Victor shifted a little to examine the cuffs. And met Sam's eyes. He had barely moved a muscle and the kid was on full alert. No wonder Dean could sleep with his back turned towards Victor. Sam was on watch even when it didn't look like it.

Victor let out a sight. Nope, no chance to pick the cuffs on Sam's watch. Not that he had anything to pick the lock to begin with.

"What are you doing?" Victor asked with a low voice. He didn't want to wake up Dean.

"Research." Came the short answer, his fingers already on the keyboard again.

"What are you researching?" Victor pushed himself into a sitting position. No way he could sleep any time soon. So why not use this moment?

Sam cocked his head as if he was considering his options.

"You don't want to know."

"Dean said something about people disappearing in this town." Victor helped. "Said you want to find out who is behind that."

Sam nodded. "But it's more likely a 'what' than a 'who'."

Victor had seen the video of Dean's confession in Baltimore. Talking about a vengeful spirit. If he just wanted to mock the police or tried to dodge a death penalty by playing the nutjob Victor was not sure. They could not really believe that stuff, didn't they?

"Look." Sam turned on his chair to better face Victor. His hole position was open and honest. "You don't want to know. We are just some psychos. Keep it that way. It's safer for you. Believe me."

His expression shifted to something pleading that Victor couldn't stand. He believed Sam. He believed that Sam tried to protect him. But from what? Victor glanced over to the sleeping figure in the other bed.

He wasn't a shrink but in his job he had picked up a thing or two. Schizophrenia came to mind, bipolar disorder, things that come and go in episodes. Maybe Sam was well aware of his brother's problems.

"Why do you think it's safer?" Victor asked but Sam had turned back to his laptop and didn't answer. After a few minutes when it was clear that the conversation was over Victor made himself more comfortable on the bed.

The next thing he heard was a "Hey, Dean. Your turn." Victor opened his eyes. Sam was at his brothers bed and tapped his ankles to wake him up. The brothers exchanged a long look before they switched places. Sam slipped under the covers while Dean sat at the end of the bed the TV remote in hand.

"Sorry for waking you." Dean said. Over his shoulder his eyes met Victors. Besides opening his eyes Victor hadn't moved. How did Dean know he was awake?

The TV flickered to life but Dean kept the sound low. Victor watched him a while before he drifted of again.

When he woke up the sun was up and the bed next to him was an empty mass.

"Morning." Sam stepped out of the bathroom. "Good timing, Dean should be back with coffee any minute."

Victor pushed himself up and sat at the edge of the bed. His hand was still cuffed to the frame and his fingers felt numb. He wiggled them to bring the blood circulation back.

"Can I use the bathroom?" Sam was alone. Maybe, just maybe … Victor tried to look as harmless as possible.

"I don't want to hurt you." Sam shock his head. "And we both know you will try something."

"That obvious?"

"In your situation? You would be dumb if not. I would try it." Sam admitted. He sounded sure as if he had been in a similar situation. "We wait for Dean."

Not five minutes later Dean was back with coffee and doughnuts. After a short trip to the bathroom – and yes he had to pee again with the door open – Victor had the luxury of breakfast in bed.

After that the luxury was over. _Hello chair. Missed me?_ Victor grimaced.

"Sorry, but this is necessary." Sam patted his arm which was once again attached to the furniture.

"What are the plans for today?" Victor asked while Sam sat down with his laptop. The kid was addicted to that thing.

"We have work to do", came the answer from behind Victor. As Dean stepped in his line of sight a hollow laugh escaped his lips.

"What?" Dean spread his arms. "I look pretty awesome."

No, he looked more like a little boy who tried on his daddy's suit. And it didn't fit him at all. How could anybody ever believe this guy was an FBI agent?

But Dean proved him wrong. He walked towards the door and between two steps he changed. He straightened his shoulders and suddenly the suit fitted him. Gone was the foolish boy. This man could very well be an FBI agent. Or everybody else he wanted to pretend to be. Both Winchesters had proven that point in the past.

"Call me, when you find something, Sammy."

"You too."

"Don't let him get a jump on you." Dean nodded in Victor's direction. Sam only rolled his eyes.

Victor was once again alone with Sam. The next two hours nether of them spoke while Sam was working on his laptop. Once he called Dean to tell him an address and then listened to the phone and took some notes. After he ended the call the typing started again. But finally he turned the laptop off and leaned back with a sight.

"Done?" Victor was curios what the boy was doing but so fare every attempt to start a conversation had been ignored.

"What I can do from here." Sam admitted. "When Dean gets back I'll head out for the library. They only have the last few years of the newspaper online." He sighted again. "You know we could work a lot faster if we don't have do babysit you."

"I could just leave." Victor offered. "What do you want with the newspaper?"

"See if something like this happened before. Looking for a pattern." Sam stretched his back. "But now I have to sit around till Dean has finished the interviews."

They acted no like Victor had expected them to do. This weren't the psychos he had chased the last months. They acted more like PI or maybe … cops.

Victor shock his head violently. He had to keep his mind straight. They played him and they played him well. Who could tell what Dean was doing out there?

While Victor was lost in thoughts Sam had found the file with his name on the cover. Lazily he flipped through the documents while Victor watched his reactions.

Suddenly Sam gasped. He read the same page a few times, his face changing from pale to red and back again.

"Sonuvabitch!" Sam was over him. There faces only inches apart Victor saw the anger in Sam's eyes. Giant hands dug into his shoulders. Victor grunted in pain.

_I'm dead._ The thought was clear in his mind. Sam would kill him. Right here and now. With his bare hands.

"How could you even think ..." Sam shock him, the grip at his shoulders tightened. "How could you?" Black spots appeared in Victor's view.

"Sam!" Dean was behind Sam. Dragging him away from Victor. "Sam. What the hell?"

Sam fought him for a minute and then just stood there. Tears in his eyes.

"Sammy?" Dean's hand still on his chest but now more for comfort than to hold him back. "What happened?"

When Sam finally answered his voice was rough. "He thinks you killed Jess."


	4. Chapter 4

_He thinks you killed Jess._ The words floated through Victor's head.

"He what?" Dean asked and Sam gave him a short nod.

Dean's expression changed from confused to lethal as the meaning of the words sunk in.

"It's just one of many working theories." Victor tried to explain before the older brother could make his move. "It wasn't an accident that's for sure." That there weren't many other suspects he better didn't tell right now. The only other suspect Victor had was there father, John Winchester. Considering how he lost his wife it was worth a shot.

"Dude, calm down." Dean ran a hand down his face while Sam grit his teeth, murder in his eyes. "He is a civilian. He doesn't know. Sammy."

Sam didn't listen. He grabbed his notes and turned towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Dean's concern clearly in his voice.

"Library." He smacked the door behind himself.

"Great." Dean throw his hands in the air. "Just fricking great. Sammy, wait."

Victor could hear their muffled voices from outside but didn't understand a word. After a few minutes a not so happy looking Dean reentered the room. He rushed into the bathroom and came back after a while now wearing jeans and shirts.

Than he sat down at the table glaring at the still open file without reading it. Apparently he had forgotten about Victor or he had just decided to ignore him. Which was fine with him. Victor wasn't eager to bring himself back to mind. Everything was better than to be at the other end of that lethal glare he had gotten from both Winchesters only minutes ago.

After a few uncomfortable silent minutes Dean leaned forward with a sigh and read the page Sam had left open.

"So you think." He turned his full attention toward Victor. "I dropped Sam off, sneaked around, broke into his apartment, killed Jess, started the fire and came back to the front just in time to save Sam?"

Victor winced and shifted on his seat, but the ropes hold him in place. His instincts told him to run, get away as far as possible. He took a breath and forced himself to calm down. He was still alive, that was a good sign, right?

"You broke in before. Jessica told her friends about you breaking in in the middle of the night. How Sam acted strange like he didn't want you to be there and still took off with you. But he changed his mind and wanted to come back to his girlfriend. You couldn't stand it. It's a theory. "

"It's crap. Why should I do that? In this scenario." He tapped at the page. "Sam could have easily died in the fire too."

"My thought was ..." Victor licked his lips considering his options. Should he tell the truth and risk to agitate Dean? Maybe that would trigger something. An agitated Dean was a lethal Dean. On the other hand, if he got caught laying, his surviving chances wouldn't change for the better.

"I figured you wanted Sam back. Back with you on the road. At any cost." He finally told the truth.

Dean stared at him for a long moment, his expression unreadable.

"Yes and no." Suddenly he looked way to young. "Yes, I wanted him back. That's why I came to Stanford in the first place. But not at any cost. Not like this." He spread his fingers in a helpless gesture.

"What happened?" Victor asked. He had never expected Dean to become so open but he wasn't an FBI agent for nothing. He took a chance when he could.

"You don't want to know. You wouldn't understand." His face showed the same sadness Victor had seen in Sam's the night before.

"Because I'm a civilian?" That term bothered him. He had been called names more often than he could count. That came with the job more or less. But civilian was new. And the most important question was: When he was a civilian what were the Winchesters?

Dean smirked. "Yeah, something like that."

"I know it wasn't an accident. And Jessica Moore dying in the same way as your mother? At the same date? I don't think that was coincidence."

"It wasn't"

"Not an accident or coincidence?"

"Both." He rubbed his hands over his face. "You really want to know?"

"Tell me."

"It was a demon." Dean said and clearly waited for Victor's reaction.

"A demon." He repeated. Not what he had expected.

"Jess was pinned to the ceiling. Her stomach was sliced open. Sam found her like that. And then she burst into flames." He paused for a moment. "I didn't saw it but our mother died the same way. On the ceiling." His eyes shimmered and he turned away. "This demon killed my mother, Jess and my father. It almost killed me and god knows what it wants with Sam. Believe it or not. I don't care."

With that he fled to the bathroom and shut the door. Leaving Victor alone with his thoughts.

He tried to sort the information he just got. Apparently John Winchester was dead. He had fallen of the grid a while ago but Victor had been sure he was around somewhere. What had this man done to his sons that they really believe a demon stalked there life and killed everybody? Victor knew about the Winchester brothers childhood. The information was scratchy but it draw a picture of a paranoid man who had fucked his kids up. Royally.

Demons? Under other circumstances Victor would have laughed. Now he felt more like crying.

Dean came back fifteen minutes later. Without a word he grabbed the bag with the weapons and spread them out on his bed.

Victor's mouth went dry.

After a second it became clear that Dean wasn't about to shoot him. Instead he took one gun after another took them apart and cleaned them. His movements were sure, his fingers worked with experience you can only gain in years maybe decades of constantly repeating. Victor took good care of his own gun but this was different. After the second gun Victor realized what he saw. This wasn't about cleaning guns this was stress relieve.

Sam wasn't back.

After Dean was done with the guns he put them back in the duffel and started to sharpen the knife Sam had stuffed there yesterday. The sound of metal over stone sent shivers down Victors spine.

Still no Sam. It had been hours since he stormed out of the door.

In the early afternoon Dean called for the first time. He listened to his phone and shut it seconds later without saying a word. Went straight to voice mail, Victor figured.

At dusk Dean was pacing the tiny room calling the same number every few minutes. If it wasn't for Victor Dean would be gone searching for Sam hours ago. But he wasn't desperate enough to leave his hostage alone. Not jet. Victor gave him half an hour. He could wait.

"Screw this." Dean grabbed his jacked and reached for the door. Victor hid his smile.

Before Dean's hand found the doorknob the door suddenly swung open.

"I brought dinner." Sam said.

Both, Dean and Victor, stared at him as he unloaded food bags on the table.

"Dude, where have you been? I'm calling you for hours." Dean was caught somewhere between anger and relieve a mixture which would make Victor really uneasy if this expression was directed towards him. But Sam just shrugged it off.

"Needed some time to think."

"You know that people are disappearing here, right? You could have at least answered one of my calls."

Sam sighed. "You're right. I'm sorry. I just ..." He stopped and rubbed his eyes. "Look, I'm tiered. Can we just call it a night and start fresh in the morning?" His face changed to that pleading expression Victor had seen the other night.

"Ok." Dean gave in. All his anger melted visibly under that look. Sam knew how to manipulate his brother. Victor wasn't so sure anymore who was the dominant part in this relationship.

With far to much experience they settled Victor on the bed where he could eat.

After dinner, Sam hadn't eaten at all, Sam went straight to bed and Dean sitting at the end of Sam's bed turned on the TV. Nether of them seemed to have problems sleeping while the other one was watching TV or tapping on that laptop.

It was way to early to sleep so Victor made himself comfortable on the bed and watched some TV with Dean. The irony made him chuckle.

"What?" Dean glanced at him.

Victor shook his head. "This whole situation is just so surreal."

"You tell me." He smirked and returned his attention to the show he was watching.

After an hour or so Sam began to stir in the other bed. Dean patted Sam's ankles but the nightmare got worse. He mumbled in his sleep while he clenched the blanket. Within seconds Dean was at his site.

"Shh, easy Sammy." He whispered stroking wet hair out of Sam's face. Sam turned his head violently from side to side as if he tried to escape something.

"No!" He screamed. "Jess! No!" His eyes flew open and he stared in horror at the ceiling.

"Sammy. I'm here. It's ok. I'm here." Dean cupped his face with both hands turning Sam's head to face him. Away from the ceiling. This side of Dean Victor hadn't expected. A soft side. But that wasn't all Victor noticed.

He noticed how Sam glanced at the ceiling, noticed the horror in his eyes. You can lie, you can fake evidences. But you can not fake a goddamn nightmare.

His guts turned into an icy rock.


	5. Chapter 5

"You know that that was the night for me." Sam said a sad smiling on his lips. He looked kind of embarrassed and the way he avoided to look in Victor's direction told him that it was his presence that made him feel uncomfortable. Victor felt like an intruder. By the way Dean comforted his little brother he could tell this wasn't their first night like this.

"There is no reason for you to stay awake, too." They exchanged that kind of look Victor had seen before. That one Victor was really curious to understand but never would, he knew that much. Eventually Dean nodded and slipped under the covers while Sam took his place at the end of the bed.

Whenever Victor woke up he saw Sam sitting there staring at the TV but his mind was far away. Nevertheless Sam wasn't to far away to not notice every move Victor made. Their eyes med once in a while but nether of them spoke. Victor wanted to ask the questions screaming in his head though he wasn't sure he would like the answers. So he stayed silent.

After another breakfast in bed Victor was settled once again in the chair. He really began to hate that thing.

"Why can't you just leave me on the bed?" He asked while Sam finished his work with the rope.

"Sorry, dude." Dean put his gun away. "With only one of us around we better make sure you are set."

Sam checked the time. "OK, I'm out to the library. And this time I should actually get there." He made a face while he stuffed his notes into the pockets of his jacket and was out of the door a second later. Leaving Victor with Dean.

It was amazing to what somebody can get used to. The first time Victor was alone with Dean he had been freaked out of his mind. He had tried his best to hide it but he couldn't deny it. This time? Yes, he felt a bit uneasy and he really wished to be anywhere else but he wasn't afraid for his life. Dean wouldn't kill him. Hell, he wouldn't even harm him as long Victor didn't force it. Victor wasn't sure if he started to trust the Winchesters or if he was developing Stockholm syndrome … and which of that two opportunities was scarier.

Dean was reading a newspaper but he didn't look absorbed enough to not be interrupted.

"So." Victor cleared his throat. "What is it exactly you are doing here?"

"I told you. People are disappearing and we are here to do something about it." He turned a page.

"What does that mean? You think you are some kind of cop?" They had given him bits and pieces but nothing really clicked together. Even when he left the impossible stuff out. The horrified look on Sam's face last night lingered in his mind. _You can't fake a nightmare._ That kid had seen something. On the ceiling. Victor shook his head. He wasn't ready to go there.

Dean didn't answer. However Victor could virtually hear him thinking: You don't want to know. And he was sick of it. That was their answer to everything. Damn, he wanted to know, he wanted to understand.

The next few hours Dean ignored him.

Sam came back around noon. It took Dean one look at his brother to figure out something was really wrong.

"What happened?" Dean asked before Sam was trough the door.

"Another victim. Rachel Donovan. Disappeared last night." He slammed the door and threw his jacket on the bed with much more force than necessary. After that he slumped down on the the edge of the bed.

While Victor was still astonished by that sudden outburst Dean was next to his little brother.

"That is not your fault." He demanded.

"I screwed up." Sam yelled clenching his fists. "I wasted hours brooding over that stupid thing." He waved towards the files in the corner. "Hours in which I should have done my fucking job."

"No. We are _not_ going there again." One hand under Sam's chin he forced him to look him into the eye. "You _can't_ save everybody."

"I have to try." Sam's voice was barely a whisper. Dean sighed as if they had this conversation before. More than once. Victor hold his breath waiting for their next move.

"You did your job today, didn't you?" Dean finally asked clearly knowing the answer to that one.

Sam nodded.

"Do you know what we are hunting?"

"No." Sam shook his head.

"See? You wouldn't have known yesterday ether. There was nothing you could have done to save her."

"I should have tried." He sat there like a picture of misery. "I ..."

"No." Just one word but Victor sensed a long history behind it. Nevertheless it seemed to help Sam.

Victor waited for a hug but Dean just gave Sam's knee a short pat. Right, he wasn't really the hugging type. Watching him around his little brother made it easy to forget about that.

"So, what did you find out?" Dean changed the topic.

Sam took a deep breath and pulling himself visibly together he opened a notebook. "There is a pattern. Same thing happened twenty-one years ago. Seven victims. Another twenty-one years before that eleven victims. No bodies, no survivors, no witnesses. Just a whole bunch of nothing."

Dean chewed his lip. "So it hibernates."

"Looks like." Sam tossed his notebook away. "Rachel Donovan was the fifth victim so I don't think it's done yet."

They even talked like cops. Victor had very similar conversations with his partner. Sharing their information, brainstorming together to figure out their next move.

"That crosses out a lot of things." Dean admitted. "Although we're not getting closer to that thing."

"I wouldn't say that." Sam actually managed a smile while the haunted look in his eyes still remained. "Rachel was with her boyfriend when she was attacked. He is in the hospital."

Fifteen minutes later Dean left to talk to the witness while Sam compared his notes to an old leather journal.

"You think this _thing_ sleeps for twenty-one years and than comes out to snack on people?" Saying it loud sounded even weirder than in his head. To Victor the MO sounded more like a serial killer than a monster. A really freaked serial killer, but still a human one.

"More or less." Sam pinned a map on the wall and started to make crosses in different colors on it. Chewing on his pen he studied his work.

"And when you find it?"

"We kill it." He said absently absorbed in his doing.

Victor's mouth went dry. The pieces clicked together. The murders always started before the Winchesters arrived and ended by the time they left. Killing the killers. That was what they were doing. In their crazy minds the murderers weren't even human, they were spirits and demons.

The room started spinning and Victor felt sick.

"Can I get some water?" He asked. He could hear his own blood rushing in his ears.

"Sure." Sam answered after a few seconds. His eyes never really left the map, a frown on his face like he was close to the answer he was looking for.

"You all right?" Sam fed him half a bottle of water. "You look a little sick."

"This whole situation is sick." Victor forced himself to a weak smile.

"It'll be over soon. I think I know what we are dealing with." He gave him a encouraging smile. But Victor felt far from encouraged. They would go out there and kill somebody. Maybe that somebody deserved it though it wasn't an excuse for taking the law in their own hands. That was the job of cops and judges and lawyers. Sam had been a pre-law student for Christ's sake, he should know better than that.

Sam went back to the leather journal leaving Victor with his thoughts.

Something still didn't feel right. In his mind Victor compared all he knew about the Winchesters to his new realization. Killing the killers sounded right. It answered a lot of questions.

Silver bullets he could explain with their obvious delusion of them hunting monsters. However burning corpses didn't stop murderers. And they had done that a lot. Hell, they busted out of prison and the first thing they had on their mind was digging up a corpse and burn it. And there was more. Weird stuff. But whatever they did the murders stopped. Every. Single. Time. And the Winchesters took off to another town.

It didn't explain Dean's doppelganger in St. Louis. Or that one of the girl in Milwaukee. She didn't had an identical twin. Victor had checked the birth records. And even if she had a twin that wouldn't explain what her sister was doing in the bank wearing nothing but her underwear.

His epiphany drained away leaving him more confused than before. Maybe he should just give in and start to believe in demons and spirits.

The grumble of the car engine announced Dean's arrival. Seconds later he stormed through the door a wild grin on his face. Sam looked up with the same expression.

"Dude, it's a Wendigo." They said in unison.


	6. Chapter 6

"Now we just have to find that son of a bitch." Dean unloaded plastic bags on his bed.

"I'm way ahead of you." Sam gestured towards the map on the wall. "Red are the current victims. Green and black are the ones from the previous cycles. Every cycle takes place in a different quarter."

Dean stepped closer and tapped on the map. "What's in the center?"

"An old pumping station. Abandoned since the thirties."

"Sweet." He turned away and dug into the bags and spread some items on the bed.

"Dude, you are way to happy about this." Sam frowned but joined his brother who started putting things together.

"Hey, you were the one bitching about how long this all takes." He waved in Victor's direction with something in his hand that looked a lot like a little propane gas bottle. "So let's just use the few hours of sunlight we have, toast this sucker and head outa here. Do we still have those flare guns?"

"In the trunk." Sam clicked two pieces together.

"What are you doing?" Victor asked. The few information they just shared didn't make any sense to him though the Winchesters acted like they had a full battle plan on hand.

"Building flamethrowers." Dean held his one up with a huge grin on his face.

"You have pyromaniac tendencies, you know that, right?" Sam glared at him but couldn't hide a smile.

Victor's chest tightened. They were about to go out there and kill that somebody they thought was a monster. And they wouldn't just shoot him. No, they would torch him with homemade flamethrowers. Even Sam seemed totally fine with that. Icy sweat covered Victor's back. He had to do something.

"What the hell is a Wendigo?" He finally managed to ask. After a second of hesitation Sam told him about eating human flesh turning you into a monster. He looked damn serious.

"You know what I don't get?" Dean asked after his brother finished his explanation. "That one in Black Water Ridge was far of the road. But here? You can't get much farther from traditional Wendigo territory. Plus we are in a freaking town."

"Animals do that all the time. Find their way into new living environments. There live more racoons in cities nowadays than out in the woods." Sam finished his flamethrower and stuffed the pieces they didn't use back in one bag. "Hell, I'm waiting for the day we face an Okami in the US."

Dean cocked his head clearly thinking about it. "We don't have bamboo daggers in the arsenal."

Sam's jaw dropped.

"What? I know what an Okami is."

"How do you know about a monster that only lives in Japan?" Sam stopped and than added. "Besides Godzilla."

"Well, there was this Japanese exchange student ..." Dean started but was interrupted by Sam.

"Dude, I don't wanna know." He hold his hands up in surrender.

Victor couldn't help it, he threw his head back and laughed. To him it sounded a little bit hysterical, but he just couldn't stop. Both Winchesters watched him carefully.

"Great, now we freaked him really out." Dean muttered.

"No, it's just ..." He wished he had a hand free to wipe the tears of his eyes. And he wished he knew what to do.

"Yeah, I know." Dean sighed.

"You can't just go out there and kill somebody." Victor said. He had to try although he was pretty sure they would do it anyway.

"It's not a somebody."

Before they left to toast that son of a bitch – Dean's words – Sam gagged Victor once again and checked the ropes a last time while Dean painted symbols at the door and under every window.

"Just in case." He said but didn't further explain it.

"If we don't come back the maid will find you in the morning." Sam patted Victor's arm and than they left.

Victor stared at the door and listened to the rumbling engine until the sound disappeared in the distance.

He was alone. It took a minute to sink in. For the first time since the Winchesters had napped him he was alone. While they were out there to kill somebody.

That thought got him moving. He had to get free. But all shifting and struggling was useless. Sam knew how to restrain somebody, Victor had to admit. The ropes didn't give in a bit. They got even tighter from his attempts. Before he would cut of the circulation in his hands Victor stopped.

He screamed but all he managed through the gag were muffled noises nobody outside the room would hear.

Panting and covered in sweat he just sat there. Defeated. Long shadows covered the wall, the light turned into golden red. Victor figured he had half an hour before sunset. And then it would get dark. Tied to a chair was bad. Tied to a chair in the dark was worse.

Part of him wished the Winchesters would come back. They had left most of their stuff in the room so they wouldn't just take off after they did what they thought they had to do.

_If we don't come back the maid will find you in the morning_. He could hear Sam's voice as clear as if he stood right next to him. He hadn't really been paying attention but now he thought about his words. What they implied. And it sent shivers down his spine.

He had to get free. Victor looked around to find anything to help him out of this situation. They had left the weapons bag behind. You don't need guns when you want to toast that sucker, Victor thought. Another hysterical giggle crawled up his throat. For long moments he choked on the gag sure he would just die of suffocation before he got his breathing under control.

The bag. None of the guns in there were loaded and there was no ammo for them Victor had noticed while he had watched Dean cleaning them. However there was still the knife. The knife Dean had just recently sharpened. Victor only had to get it. Yeah, as if it was that easy.

Another laughter tickled his throat. Victor closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

Experimentally he rocked the chair. This could work. He rocked harder and the chair moved half an inch. Maybe less. But it moved and that was all that matters. Behind the gag Victor grinned.

It was dark before Victor even got close to the bag. Through the curtains light from the parking lot illuminated the room a bit. Not much but Victor could still make out the shape of the bag. The zipper even shimmered as if it wanted to mock him. Victor grit his teeth and rocked forwards.

Once or twice he gathered to much of a momentum and nearly fell but so far he got lucky. Eventually he had to fall. He wasn't looking forwards to that but he would think about it when he reached the fucking bag.

Victor had no idea what time it was. The Winchesters were gone for hours that was for sure. Dean had said something about using sunlight as if he didn't want to face the thing in the dark.

Victor froze in mid-motion. He had thought of it as a thing and not a person.

_If we don't come back … _Victor choked. Were they dead? A few days ago it would have been good news. Winchesters dead, hurray. One point for the good guys. But now he was kinda worried. He didn't like the idea of them being hurt or even dead. Not that he wanted them to come back right now, but still. Maybe he had developed Stockholm syndrome after all.

Victor shook his head. First he had to get free. Everything else he could figure out afterwards.

He looked down at the bag. Close enough.

Tilting from one side to the other he finally crashed to the floor. Hit his head pretty bad. For a few seconds his vision dimmed and he blinked away the tears. He tested the ropes. It would be hilarious to find the chair broken. Pure irony. But the ropes hadn't become slack.

It took him a couple of minutes to get his hand near the zipper. He thanked god as he felt the metal beneath his fingers.

To open the bag and finally get the knife out was another story. Victor had completely lost track of time. The Winchesters could come back any minute. If the came back at all.

Victor hissed in pain. The knife was sharp. Once he got the right angle it went through the ropes like a hot knife through butter. And it didn't stop at his skin. He couldn't see how deep the cut was but it was bleeding.

He got one hand free and shortly after that the other. Next thing was the gag. Victor swallowed a few times to get rid of the taste.

A rope around his chest and one at each ankle. Piece of cake. He would be out of this damn chair in a second. He had just to be careful not to cut himself again. His own blood made the knife slippery. Victor tightened his grip and started working on the rope around his chest.

Outside a rumbling car engine was cut off.


	7. Chapter 7

Victor cut the last rope and darted towards the door. He got behind it the second it swung open.

Victor slammed it back. Hard. With a satisfying WHAM it hit somebody. Grabbing the edge of the door Victor slammed it into that somebody two more times.

In the dark he could only see a shadow going down but a second one was still standing. Sort of. One hand on his knee, the other on the wall to support himself he breathed harshly.

"Back off! I have a knife." Victor yelled. He shifted his weight to dash forwards. If he could only get outside. That was all. Just get outside.

"Dean!" He shadow on the floor shouted. Sam. Victor threw half a glance in his direction. Just to make sure he was far enough away. Half a glance.

The next thing he knew was laying on his stomach kissing the floor and his arm painfully twisted behind his back.

"Son of a bitch." Dean's voice muttered into his ear. He was dragged to his feed and a second later the cuffs snapped and he buried his face in the pillow. So close. It wasn't fair.

Dean turned the light on and Victor blinked into the sudden brightness. It took him a second to take in the scene he was watching.

Blood. Both Winchesters were covered in blood. From Dean's hairline, maybe where the door had hit him, blood dripped over his face. His hands and clothes were stained red. With much more gentleness than he had showed to Victor seconds ago he hauled Sam to his feet and maneuvered him to sit on the bed.

Sam looked bad. His shirts were ripped to pieces. With one hand he pressed a cloth to his side and he was bleeding badly.

"You have to call an ambulance." Victor said but the Winchesters ignored him. "Dean. This is serious. He needs an hospital. Now!"

"OK, let's get rid of this and I'll have a look." Dean murmured while he peeled one layer of shirts after another off Sam. When his upper body finally wasn't covered with anything but blood, Dean settled Sam on his side so that he had good access to his brothers torn rips. To Victor it looked like he had a fight with Freddy Krueger. And lost.

Sam was facing him. And he didn't looked freaked at all. His face was a mask of pain, sweat glittering all over it, but he seemed calm. He even frowned as he looked closer to Victor.

"He is bleeding." Sam said. His voice was low and normal. Not a hint in it that his right side was sliced open. Victor could swear he saw white shimmer through when Dean wiped the blood away. White like a bone.

Sam's words got Victor Dean's attention.

"Why didn't you say anything?" He asked rummaging through the first aid kid he had opened on the floor. When he got that Victor couldn't tell. His head still hurts.

"Put pressure on it." A package of dressing material hit his chest. "I'll have a look when I'm done here."

Victor snored. _When I'm done here_, what was he thinking? That he was a freaking doctor?

"Dean." He tried again. "He needs an hospital. He is bleeding to death." Couldn't he see that? Or didn't he want to?

"Are you so afraid of prison that you rather let him die?" Victor played his biggest trump. Dean cared about Sam. A lot. That much he had learned about Dean.

His eyes met Dean's. Lethal pools of green.

"I would die to keep him save." He said staring Victor down. Victor broke eye contact first. "This we can handle ourselves. So stop talking and let me do my job."

"Can we just get over this?" Sam asked propping himself up on his elbow. "I'm bleeding here."

Victor was forgotten. After he fed Sam two painkillers and some water, Dean settled him back on his side. Than he started to clean the wounds.

"Hugging a wendigo." He shook his head. "You are such an emo bitch."

"Ungrateful jerk." Sam replied with a weak smile.

"Hold on." With forceps Dean pulled something out of the mass his brother's side was and hold it up. Sam flinched, a sharp gasp escaped his lips.

"Want a souvenir?" Dean grinned.

"What is it?"

"Piece of a claw."

"No. I have the scar to tell the tale." He bit his bottom lip. "If you ever come to the part where you stitch me up."

"Getting there." He finished the cleaning and got more things out of the first aid kid. It was very well stocked and Dean seemed to know his way around with the medical stuff. How often did he have to do something like this, Victor wondered.

Sam's naked chest gave him a clue. Besides a tattoo on his left pec – a pentagram surrounded by flames, of course – Sam had more scares to tell the tale. Nasty ones.

Apparently he had been stabbed and maybe shot more than once. Burned on his forearm. With an open mind the scar near his collarbone looked suspicions like a bite. From a big animal. Another one started just below his navel and disappeared under his waist band. And that were only the ones Victor could see he bet there were more.

"Here we go." Dean said and began to put stitches in his brothers flesh. Sam fisted the sheets lines of pain on his face but he hold still and didn't made a sound. Like he knew the pain.

Dean worked quick with efficient moves mumbling soft words of comfort under his breath.

"I think the painkillers kick in." Sam said his eyes closed. The lines of pain softened a bit.

"I'm here. You can sleep. I'll keep watch." With his free hand Dean stroked sweaty hair out of his brothers face before he did the next stitch. He was halfway done and Victor wasn't sure if a doctor could have done a better job.

A few minutes later Dean finished his work. Clean white dressing covered the wound and Sam was fast asleep. With a smile on his lips Dean tucked him in.

"Your turn." His attention was back on Victor. Dried blood covered Dean's face though the gash near his hairline had stopped bleeding a while ago.

Victor started to protest but was cut off.

"I'll just make sure your are not dying here till you can see a doctor tomorrow." He hold his hands up in surrender. "So don't try to take me down. I'm to freaking tiered for games. All right?"

"OK." Victor nodded and Dean sat down at the edge of the bed. He was so close Victor could smell the mixture of blood, sweat and smoke. And something like grilled pork.

"It's not that deep. I don't think it needs stitches."

"Good. Because I wouldn't let you near me with a needle." It came out of his mouth more comradely than he had meant to. Their eyes met and Victor could only see honest concern in that green pools. Maybe a bit of an amusement.

Dean offered him painkillers which he took without hesitation because his arm really hurts and his head pulsed with his heartbeat.

"Sorry, for … you know … the door." He felt kinda bad for hitting Dean. And that said something.

"Actually I'm impressed how you managed to get free. I would have done the same thing." He didn't seemed mad at all. "But I would have gotten away." He added with his trademark smirk.

Victor watched while Dean dressed the wound. "Where did you learn this?"

"Kinda comes with the job." He smiled lost in memories. "Actually, Sam is better with the needle."

That part of their lives Victor didn't want to think about. How many nights like this they had? Will they have?

"What did you mean by I can see a doctor tomorrow?" Victor changed the subject.

"What I said." He closed the kit. "We're done here. I'll just let Sam sleep a few hours before we get on the road again. We have to make sure to get a headstart before you can chase us again."

Right. He was a fed and they were psycho killers. Problem was, it didn't feel that way anymore. It didn't feel right.

Dean watched him closely. Reading something in Victor's face.

"Crap." Was all Dean said running a hand through his hair. The blood caught his eye. Like he haven't noticed it before Dean examined his arms and clothes. "I'll take a shower." He announced. "Do I have to secure you?"

Victor couldn't make any sense of his captor's behavior but he was willing to play along. Dean earned that much. "I'll stay put." He promised and meant it.

While Dean was in the shower Victor lay back. Thinking. On the nightstand between the beds lay the souvenir Dean had pulled out of Sam's ribs. Victor picked it up and examined it form every angle. It _was_ some kind of claw.

"You can keep it, if you want." Dean was standing in the bathroom door, arms crossed over his naked chest. Only wearing sweatpants he looked way to young and vulnerably. He had the same tattoo Sam had. And scars. As he bend over his bag and pulled out a T-shirt Victor saw scars on his back, too.

"You are like a dog with a bone." Dean said while he was dressing. "You can't just let go, can't you?"

"No." He wasn't sure what to believe. What to make out of this, but sure as hell he couldn't just pretend the last few days had never happened.

"You should." He sighed. "But if you really can't you might want to speak to Rachel Donovan. She'll tell you a different story than she told the police."

Victor needed a moment to place the name. The last victim. The one Sam couldn't save.

"You saved her?"

"Her and two others. They are in the hospital." Dean sat at the edge of Sam's bed one hand on his brother's legs. Than he started to talk. About the wendigo hunt. About shapeshifters in St. Louis and Milwaukee. About a spirit in the Green River County Jail.

And Victor listened.

"What about Baltimore?" He asked after Dean had finished.

"A death omen. I was most of the time in custody so that would be Sam's story to tell. Besides I don't want to get other people in trouble."

The cop. Victor understood and didn't ask further.

"You are at the beginning of a very dangerous and most kindly deadly path. I highly recommend you to stop before it's to late." Dean looked him in the eye.

"I'm not saying I believe all that stuff you just told me, but it raised some serious questions. I have to find answers."

"Yeah, I know." And he really looked like he knew.

The Winchesters left before sunrise.

The maid found Victor a few hours later.

End

* * *

><p>I know I'm evil but this is the end of "Take a Seat". I promise there will be more. Part two of my Victor 'verse will be called "Down the Rabbit Hole" so look out for that if you like.<p>

Maybe I'll do one or two oneshots first. I don't know just yet.

I also want to thank everybody who left a review, put this story on alert/favorite list or just enjoyed reading it. It's kinda overwhelming how many people actually like this story.


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